Crystal
by starlit skyes
Summary: When the fragile crystal of fate falls, it shatters to a thousand debris that glitter like fallen tears, leaving the man hollow. But something unexpected made Marcus attempt to gather the fallen remains of his lovely crystal, remember joy, to feel again.
1. Fly Away

**A/N: **So this is in Marcus from the Volturi's POV. And yay! for angst!

Okay, for the general info some may not be aware of – Didyme was Aro's sister, and she carried this aura of joy around her so that people with her always felt happy. The rest of Marcus's history, for those who don't know, is at the end of the story – since there's no spoiler button here.

Forgive me if this is a little shoddy – it's the first thing I wrote since my recent bout of writer's block.

A song that inspired me for this one is _Eva_ by **Nightwish**.

Hope you like it!

* * *

I stood at the tip, the precipice of the tallest turret of our Castle. The Volturi Citadel.

This turret was so tall, the narrowing beams reaching out to the unending expanse of warm gray sky, and, by illusion, seeming to touch it.

I could see Volterra, a wide sea of beautiful civilization surrounding me, but so down below. I could see the little spots of lush green that were the plentiful vegetation, and the dull gleam of the red sandstone of most of our architecture.

The sun was but a pale, mysterious gleam behind the soft mackerel sky.

The wind blew strongly, drifting heavy gray clouds above our town. My black robes whipped around me, and my dark hair was a mane followed by my pale face.

It was beautiful here, but I hardly noticed it. Because all the images that filled my mind, all that I could really see, was the ones of my memories of the one I loved. Didyme.

I chose to linger on the aspects of her gentle face, easily blacking out images of the scenery around me. Her starry ruby eyes in her elfin face, her crimson, rosebud lips.

I lingered on her fair hair, framing her flawless face. My faultless memory provided me the images efficiently, so that I need not believe I was here at all -I could be with my Didyme. I heard her merry laugh, echoing across our castle, making the solemn surroundings more alive, more real.

I remembered how the strength, the overwhelming intensity of our love thrilled my talent for sensing relationships. It flooded me with the glory of its magnitude -it was a feeling I was somewhat addicted to.

I thought of how being with my Didyme made me feel -her own wondrous talent, the aura of happiness that she carried around with her, filling everyone with zest and certainty. How being near her itself was an utter joy for me.

The image of her, brilliantly sparkling in the beams of the sun -it was an image etched permanently to the back of my eyelids so that whenever I shut my eyes, I saw the most glorious picture.

I swam in these memories joyfully, blocking out all other disturbing thoughts.

Didyme. My love -the melodies she played on her viol. The sweet tunes she made, that spoke so many words in its unique notes than many could possibly dream of. I remembered how her flaxen head bowed over the instrument as her lithe little fingers flew over the frets, bow flying, creating wonders. I could hear her joyous laugh at her creation after her eyes had opened, thrilled with the wonder of music.

We -Didyme and I, running across the jade meadows, laughing at the thrill of speed, her soft hand in mine.

We, Didyme and I, her arms around my neck and mine at her waist as I spun her lightly to pleasant waltzes and other tunes.

My vital, zestful, _glowing_ Didyme. She was one that was impossible to overlook, or forget. Truly unique and exquisite. And she loved me.

I shivered lightly at the other inflow of memories. I recalled her sweet, soft lips moving in perfect harmony with mine; breathing in her scent, like soft jasmine and honey. Her small hands caressing my body. Running my hands through her golden hair, tracing the flawless features of her little face with my fingertips, running a finger across her parted lips, feeling the tickle of her soft breath against my skin...

Again, I stopped another thought before it could manifest itself. I pulled my mind back to these blissful images...

In our softly glowing bedroom, our ecstatic sighs, our bodies twined close together to one, an unbelievably powerful synergy. The sheets and pillows would be on the floor, forgotten by us, because we would be very preoccupied...

Ah, true love. It was something powerful for we immortals, for all emotions were magnified beyond the abilities of fragile humans. Everything was more powerful. Passion, joy, love... everything was more powerful.

I heard the voice from behind me suddenly, and I immediately knew it was the voice of a guard, Henry.

"Sir Marcus," he said, his voice tentative.

I wondered why I had not heard his approach -perhaps because I was too lost in my thoughts.

I slowly turned to look a the young immortal. His dark head was bowed in respect, his hand outwards in a humble gesture -as it should be.

"What?" I questioned him warily.

"Master Aro... he had wanted to meet with you, Sir Marcus."

My favorite partner's name -it stirred something in me. An unwanted image flew involuntarily into my mind, another bad memory resounding in my head. It was a painful memory, and I felt myself wince. I could not suppress it now. And I remembered that for us immortals, _pain_ was also a powerful emotion. Too powerful.

I felt the cold muscles of my face move into an expression, a face that had never been familiar to me -_until that day. _The day that I was now forced to recall.

"Go," I said to him, and surprisingly, I found my voice very rough. "I shall meet with him shortly. Go."

"Alright, Sir Marcus. I take your leave," He quickly bowed out, his expression still shocked at whatever he had seen in my face.

I knew what he had seen in my face. Because, Aro's name... it had brought other memories to my mind, memories, I remembered, I had been trying to suppress, to deny.

Each sentence of this memory came to me slowly, like a story too well told.

I remembered how Didyme and I had wished for an escape, into our own paradise -the one of our love. How the violence and ambition had held no more interest for us.

Aro had blessed us in spite of his great disappointment -and Didyme had felt remorse for hurting her dear brother. But we anticipated this final joy, of togetherness, and planned for it.

I remembered yesterday... I had been seeking Didyme, she had been nowhere. This was unnatural. She was missing.

I knew what would follow in this story, and my hands clutched at my head, trying to stop the inflow of unwanted images. But, of course, it was a vain attempt.

Faintly irritated, I had gone into Aro's hall, wondering if he had knowledge of his sister's whereabouts. Aro's face had been grieved and saddened -_aged. _And strangely..._guilty._

"_What is it?" _I had demanded.

Of course, now I knew it was simply because he had such a horrendous thing to tell me.

Looking into my eyes, his own faint ruby ones hollow, he had said the words. The fatal words.

"_Didyme..._

"_She lives no more, Marcus."_

At first, I could not believe. It was outrageous. I had raged and screamed, nearly going wild with disbelief.

But the evidence was unavoidable. Finally, I had no choice but to accept... accept that he spoke the truth.

As my world began to crumble to bits, he had added the the oil to the fire that burned me:

"_I am sorry."_

I desperately passed through that scene, not wanting the truth of his words so sink in again, when I had, for a few heavenly moments, managed to forget it. Denial was bliss, I now knew.

Forget that my Didyme, my immortal love, was _dead._

But I remembered how it had felt then -after I had but no choice to believe his words. Feeling like there was a shard of the sharpest crystal piercing me.

Feeling it penetrate my marble skin, into my cold, frozen heart -making it warm, making it alive -and making it break into thousands and millions of little bits, and _bleed._ Bleed relentlessly, soaking me.

Of course my heart shattered.

I remembered wondering bleakly how, when there was an arrow through my chest, penetrating it cruelly and not allowing me to breathe;

_When my eyes felt like they would tear to shreds with the tears they could no longer shed -_I was still standing, still existing -still _feeling?_ I remembered wondering -_was there no bit of kindness that would stop me from feeling?_

I remembered those thoughts too well.

But of course, I stood pale and perfect. Nothing had pierced me.

Except this truth. The truth, that Aro's sister, an _immortal Volturi,_ had ceased to exist. The impossible truth.

I had felt the vacuum, the absence of our relationship in my senses, to add more substance to this truth. To add more pain, too.

I remembered feeling like I couldn't breathe, feeling like this large shard was _killing me_. I remembered how I had clutched my chest, how my knees had crumbled, how I had cringed into the ground, wishing that there would be any different sort of pain -anything that would obliterate the one pulsing through the gaping wound in my chest.

I remembered how something had flashed in Aro's eyes, and he had extended a hand toward me, only to drop it helplessly, and repeat his previous words.

"_I am sorry, Marcus."_

I remembered how I, unable to bear the sight of his pity, had fled. Something I had never done before in my life -I had _fled_ from the room, from the castle.

But I remembered that that had not been my wish at all -what I had _really_ wished to do was flee from _this. _This pain, this knowledge.

I groaned quietly at the memories, cursing the crystal clear power of recall that we immortals had. How nice it would be, to live in the bliss of _ignorance,_ or even forgetfulness. How good it would be, to be unaware.

But now, I did not feel the pain. I only remembered it. Because, there _is_ a limit to how much one can suffer -once the peak of it is passed, it dulls.

No, it does not dull, but it manifests itself in different ways. Because, when something _has_ to be painful, after there is a way that you might somehow grow immune to it -it evinces itself in different, more effective ways.

Now, I felt something different. Other than the disgust, the regret, for remembering; for having to pore through these hideous images again -I felt _dirty._

I tried to gauge this feeling. I felt like there were a million cracks and dents in my being, and they were filled with _dirt._ Dirt so deep embedded that it could not be reached. I felt absolutely _filthy._

The truth -the knowledge of Didyme's non-existance was this dirt, I realized. Those words of Aro's had desecrated me, and now they befouled me. I was utterly besmirched by this truth.

I suddenly felt a vicious need to claw out this filth. But I knew it was impossible -for truth was an all-powering, pure, inescapable thing. It gave one no alternatives but to face it. That was why it was what it was - "_The truth"._

My fingers itched to tear out my granite skin, rip out this smut. I felt like I were enveloped in a smokey haze that did not allow me to feel free. My fingers clenched and unclenched against the desire to scratch my skin, tear out the filth, desperate for some relief.

A roll of thunder clapped across the sky, and I felt a first drop of cool rain on my clenched fist.

I looked up at the sky, faintly startled. The gray clouds covered the sky now, and immediately another droplet followed in succession.

Quickly and surely, it was raining. First a mild drizzle, then a steady patter, and then -it was _pouring_, as it could only in Volterra; The thick sheets of rain spattered over the town splendidly.

I was joyous at the water -feeling, now, that my wish had been fulfilled. I had been wishing for some way to cleanse myself, had I not?

I held out my hands against the pouring water.

I found that I could relish every drop of water that fell on me, every splash on my hard skin; I could appreciate individually every single droplet that wetted every pore of my skin.

The water falling on my body seemed to relieve that feeling of impureness, dull it. Maybe even erase it; I could not tell right now.

It was obliterated, because I made sure that all I felt was the water splashing on my hard body, the water that soaked my clothes and hair, the water that hit hard in tiny pin pricks all over my body. I dwelled only on that -the fact that I had felt the filth, and now I was being cleansed.

I _wanted_ it, I _wanted_ the water to penetrate the invisible fissures in me, and clean out the stains. It felt unreal that the knowledge of my loss made me feel this way, but all I could now think of was -that I was being washed; the _pain_ was being washed away.

The water flowed down my dark hair, completely drenched my entire being. I felt every droplet's impact on my skin, and then as it rolled downward or fell to the ground. I relished that tiny moment of impact of every drop.

I opened my eyes against the water, and so the rain cleansed them, too. I wished it to clean out the images, the images of Aro's face as he spoke those words, the image of his pity... The image my mind had conjured, of Didyme's lifeless body. This wish of mine seemed to come true, as well. I could no longer summon those pictures, because all I could feel was the small sting of the water in my eyes.

Moments, minutes, perhaps hours passed this way. I would not know, because I paid little attention to time these last days.

Finally, and unfortunately, the rain slowed, and gradually, stopped. All that was left was the sound of the last settled drops falling from the leaves of the trees. The sound of the birds shaking off their wings, trying to dry them, and the sound as the drops of water on them flew from their little bodies.

I sighed in relief. I felt nothing -no pain, no dirt. I felt no pain that I did _not_ feel pain, which was also expected.

I walked slowly down the spiral strairs, down to Aro's hall.

Aro's sat in his high paneled throne in the middle of the large, high ceilinged hall. Renata, of course, stood by his right hand, and Chelsea at his left.

Chelsea's presence immediately made me wary.

But something about the intuition was off -I could not place it. It was too... _normal._ It perturbed me slightly.

Even the perturbation was strange. Detached. I ignored it, storing the feeling for future dwelling.

"Aro," I greeted him as I walked closer to him. "You wanted to see me." My voice was unintentionally flat. I did nothing to improve it -it was pointless.

Aro rose immediately, taking a step toward me. Renata and Chelsea shadowed him.

"Marcus," he said, with a small smile. "How are you, my friend?" his milky red eyes widened with concern at whatever was on my face. I tried to feel my expression -I could not. I felt numb, as though I could not sense myself.

"I am well, Aro." I replied. "What did you want to see me for?"

Aro reached out, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Oh, nothing, my friend. I was concerned... I knew you felt much agony over -over what happened." His hazy eyes were pitiful.

This reminder did nothing to me. "I did. But I am fine, Aro."

I felt Aro's scrutiny on my face, as his pale eyes narrowed slightly and his mouth hardened. "I am glad for that, my friend." His voice was still kindly.

Expectedly, I felt it. I felt the draw, the attraction in my mind, to stand by Aro and to serve him.

It was an uncanny thing, this attraction. Even though I knew it was Chelsea using her unique gift, I had to succumb to it without the dream of complaint.

As I stood, about a foot and a half from Aro, I felt the mental draw to come closer to him, not physically, but _mentally._ I felt the _need_ to serve him, to make him happy. I felt as if it was my duty to.

I looked at Chelsea, and she widened her eyes innocently at me. I then looked at Aro, and he smiled knowingly, apologetically.

"So that it what you are going to do," I said. "Well, I do not mind. I will do whatever I can for you. There is nothing else for me, after all." The truth of those words occurred to me suddenly. There _was _nothing else for me -and I _would_ serve Aro. I was faintly disturbed by this realization.

Aro put his other hand on my shoulder, and he smiled. "Thank you, Marcus, my dear friend." He bowed his head in a gesture of gratefulness. "I remain forever thankful to you."

"I do not have a choice, do I? But, as I said, I do not object."

"Again, Marcus, I am sorry. Sorry that this had to happen to you."

I saw it again, the glint of the strange guilt in his ruby eyes. It invited nothing, this intuition -I felt no curiosity, no anger.

"I take your leave now, Aro. In a few hours, we shall meet again." I turned, and left the hall, walking swiftly to my room.

As I entered my room, feeling somewhat comfortable in the dark light of the large hall, I ignored the large white bed at the corner, cold and empty. It evoked no memories, no pain, no nothing. And I felt unsurprised at this blankness.

There was a full, tall copper framed mirror in the opposite corner of my room. Unthinkingly, I went to it, and stood in front of it.

I examined my reflection apathetically.

My pale face gleamed in the dim light, stoney and hard. My hair flowed down my back, straight, and a dull black, even after it had dried.

My mouth was pressed together in straight, hard line. I tried to curve it, but I could not. It was strange, but again, it didn't seem to concern me.

What frightened me was my eyes -my wide, pale ruby eyes.

I stared into the mirror, my eyes widening.

I could see into my eyes -see all the way into them. They were like deep, endless, dark tunnels. In spite of the pale color of my irises, they were dark. And empty.

It reminded me of a grave. Of staring into a dark grave.

My eyes were empty. They were blank, thoughtless.

Dead. Not the _undead_, for once, but truly _lifeless. _Unfeeling.

I realized, that trying to wash out all my pain, all the wretched feelings for Didyme, all the dirt... left me with nothing else. Left me vacant, hollow.

Right now, I was truly a hollow man.

And this realization brought me no emotions -the fright was detached. Knowing that I was damaged beyond repair, I felt faintly regretful, wistful.

But it did not seem of importance.

Nothing seemed of importance. Not any more.

Everything was crystal clear, no haze, no filth -crystal clear, and not worth any importance.

Everything was _gone._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **How was it? Please, please review.

As for Marcus – Didyme and Marcus fell in love, and they decided to leave the Volturi. This defied all of Aro's ambitions, so he pretended to bless them, and when he was sure no one would find out, he murdered his own sister, Didyme. He used Chelsea's powers to manipulate ties on Marcus to make sure he wouldn't leave. Marcus didn't, but he became an empty man after Didyme's death, and not even Chelsea could make him feel any enthusiasm for it. All this, is in Stephenie Meyer's official website – www. StephenieMeyer . com

~starlit skyes~

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	2. Lift Me To The Sun

**A/N: **So here's the second and last chapter of this fic. I don't know if it's very enjoyable, because it is quite angsty, but I hope you like it, anyway!

Marcus was always a character I felt fascinated by ever since I read his story. And then I wondered – what would his reaction be to Edward coming to Volterra? I remember Aro saying something about Marcus being surprised about the bond between Edward and Bella (though I left that out here), and my imagination just came up with THIS. I also thought about how Marcus does not want to kill Renesmee in Breaking Dawn, and I was very intrigued.

So this is probably during the Eclipse time.

Another note: I was heavily inspired by the beautiful tune _When The Love Falls_ by **Yiruma** when I wrote this. Seriously, that is _beautiful_. If you haven't listened to it, you should now! In fact, the whole album, _First Love_, is awesome.

Another inspirational song was _Gravity_ by **A Perfect Circle**. The words describe Marcus very well, I think.

Enjoy!

* * *

The cathedral was empty, save for Aro and I. The ceiling sloped higher and higher above me, the domes of bright stained glass, until they joined together many feet high. I was surrounded by the the glass with the bright colors, intricate designs, and the large portraits and paintings of our ancestry, of our city, of our history, of our followers.

I was surrounded by our majesty.

But what did majesty concern me? It had always been the same for me, everything – all the same, for the past century. Since the day I had stayed out, to wet myself in the monsoon, to wash myself off the images. That was a memory I could remember for all time, but never exactly _experience._ In truth, there were no memories that I could really experience now. Just watch apathetically, like one might watch a documentary that caused them no concern. It was just the result of something that had happened to me, the result of which had caused me emotions and feelings that I did not wish to feel. But if I did not wish to feel that, I was left with feeling nothing. The consequence of a desire ... a consequence that I endured without much ado.

Aro's nacreous ruby eyes glinted with curiosity, his brow furrowed in concern.

"What perturbs you, Marcus, my brother?"

We are the Volturi – the royalty, by every standard. Aro, Caius, and I are looked upon as gods; we were the ultimate paragons of virtue, of vampirehood – we are the Volturi, the Nightime Patrons of the Arts.

For the last millenia, I had wished for nothing that I did not have – worried for nothing that did not concern me. Felt true concern for nothing, in fact – the exterminations had been, to me, a doing of satisfaction at best; a bore at worst.

But now...

I looked into the clouded eyes of my comrade, willing my voice not to tremble.

"Aro," I whispered. "Hold my hand."

The agony, the burning regret that filled every pore of me now was much too strong to not be clearly defined on my cold face. Too strong to be expressed in articulated words.

"Marcus?" Aro said gently, his eyes full of well practiced concern. "What is it that pains you so, my brother?"

What was I supposed to tell him? What words would describe this feeling – this searing grief and pain, whilst I had not felt anything for a hundred years; the clawing regret ...

I held out my hand to Aro, my face grim. There were no words ... I would have to have Aro understand it all, from my memories and thoughts. Even if I would have to relive everything, that seemed the only way.

Aro threw me a wary, worried glance. "Marcus, are you sure?" he asked me softly.

"Yes, Aro. It is the only way."

His long, spidery hand tentatively wrapped around mine, and I gasped at the flow of the first images in my mind. My eyes were on Aro's intent face.

_Dancing golden curls ... A slender, pale body ... Laughing crimson eyes ..._

"Didyme ..." I couldn't help whispering as the images assaulted me, and Aro winced.

_Marcus! Marcus, I love you. Marcus, let's go, elsewhere; let us go away, Marcus, where we can be together forevermore ..._

"Oh, Marcus ..." Aro moaned softly, his head bowed. The memories, so saturated with pain as they were now, would affect him as well with my agony.

The images swirling in both our heads changed.

_'She is dead, Marcus. She lives no more ...'_

_Her body, spread eagled on the glimmering mosaic floors of our room ... Illusion or reality? A cloud of smoke, perhaps, with _her_ in it's scent. A mound of limbs, where I might recognize her face. _

_Illusion ... _

_But based on reality._

I shuddered, and my fingers clenched around Aro's convulsively. My eyes closed.

_Standing at the highest point in our Citadel. The deep clouds, the muted sun._

I could remember now, I could experience, when I had been apathetic and hollow for so long. _So long!_

_Rain ... rain washing through me, soaking me. Every drop's impact on my marble skin, feeling every drop washing me, cleansing me ... Removing the images._

The images that I was now forcing myself to recall. The image I was now _forced_ to recall.

_Marcus?_

_Where are you?_

_I'm still here ... Somewhere inside. Somewhere deep, deep inside. _

_Cleansed thoroughly, washed, so no more of the filth of pain remained to cause me discomfort._

_No more filth ..._

_No more _anything.

Aro's eyes stared at me, shocked.

_My face in the mirror. My eyes, empty, soulless ... Dead. My entire face, _cold_ and unfeeling._

_Purposeless._

"Yes, Aro," I whispered. "That's how it was."

"Was...?" Aro asked, his eyes wide with shock. "Marcus, my dear friend, what is this?"

I tightened my fingers around his. "_See,_" I prompted him. "There is no other way I can tell you. _See._"

I recalled that fateful day ... We had been discussing our ventures, the countless exterminations we had succeeded in, the countless people we had controlled or defeated.

Then, _he_ had come. He had come, to disrupt the weird peacefulness I had obtained, the strange shield I had developed toward any feeling whatsoever, with his memories ... With his passion for the _connection._

Connections ... they were everything to me. They were my eyes.

_Edward Cullen._

"You see, Aro," I whispered. "I wish ... I wish he had not come."

_He arrived in our court. He was beautiful, even for a vampire._

_His face was utterly bloodless ... even for an immortal. _

His eyes had glinted like onyxes. As I beheld him, beheld the almost frightening shadows under his eyes, I had wondered idly how long it had been since he had last hunted. I recalled Carlisle Cullen's strange ideologies, and felt faintly amused.

But as he drew closer to us, flanked by Felix and Demetri, I could see that it was more frightening to look _into_ his eyes. They burned with a searing agony, an almost blinding fervor, that made it almost painful to look into them. His face, however, was stiff; well controlled – _lifeless._

But there were his eyes ...

To interrupt the image in my eyes, I repeated my last statement. "I wish he had not come, Aro."

And yet, that statement was not wholly true ... But I did not understand that, so I provided Aro the images that I _did_ understand, hoping that somehow recalling these events would help me comprehend the turmoil in my mind.

He had clenched Aro's hand, like I do now.

_Aro's head was bowed under the information he received, but Edward Cullen kept his head high. His eyes were closed, his face shut off ... and strangely vulnerable, for one moment. I recalled that this was the boy Aro had spoken to me of; the one that could read other's thoughts._

_Edward Cullen's eyes were peacefully closed as he shared his thoughts and read my brother's reactions, but his face was left looking strangely tired, pained, weary. _

_And then, he freed his fingers, his eyes snapping open._

_"Kill me," he pleaded, voice soft. "I have no reason to live. Kill me." For once, his chin bowed. "Please." _

In that moment, after so many years, I had felt shock over the expression in Edward Cullen's eyes. The wild, burning regret there. Even in my brain dead state, I had felt mildly perturbed ... and dissatisfied, somehow. Still empty, still hollow, but _bothered_ by this.

And then I realized why.

In the eyes of Edward Cullen, I could see _me._

Or at least, I could see what I might have been. In the searing flames of regret in his eyes, I saw the similarity with the fire in my own; the fire that I had extinguished that day, a century ago, in the rain.

Any curiosity for his decision was not strong. Not _very_ strong. All I could feel in that endless moment as I stared into his eyes as he pleaded with us to take his life was the dissatisfaction ... That _I_ should have been this way. Even after centuries had passed since my Didyme had disappeared from my life, there should have been at the very least a shadow of this in my eyes. Not the empty, hollowness that echoed around every pore of my lifeless being. I saw what I should have been – a man in agony for his lost love, however unbearable that agony may be – in the eyes of Edward Cullen, and I felt perturbed by my state.

I shook my head, trying to shake off these thoughts. What had happened had happened. The transformation had taken place, and I had to convince myself that it was better than what Edward was experiencing. Looking at the pain in his eyes, the pleading in his voice as he asked us to take his life, I tried to convince myself that my situation was preferable, if not _right._ I shook off the mild regret I felt that I did not have one bit of pain or love for Didyme anymore.

I tried to ignore the questions that then bounced around my skull.

_Had he lost his love as well? Had another beloved immortal been lost, to cause him the same pain that I had experienced, once?_

But it was impossible to not regret, as I saw the face of the boy that ... that I _should_ have been like.

My fingers tightened around Aro's convulsively again.

"I wish I was not like that, Aro," I said softly. Aro's eyes did not open, but I could see his face stiff with shock. "I wish I was not so different."

But of course, we had refused him. Aro had not wanted to take the life of the son of his friend ... even if an untterly incorridgible friend. And the despair in the boy's eyes as we gave our refusal shook me.

As he left our court, I had tried to compose myself, to look the bored, empty vampire I had been for so long. I thought I had managed to look as if there no change.

But inside me, I was engaged in a swirl of incomprehensible emotions – dissatisfaction, for the most part, and confusion. And regret. I felt it _through_ my hollowness, in spite of the apathy that I lived in.

During our counsels, we could communicate with one another – Aro, Cauis, and I. As if we, too, had some mind-reading talent. If we stood in our triangular formation, fingertips interlinked, we had the ability to see each other's views – such was the strength of our bond, and the result of our centuries of meditation together.

But we could only see the images, never the emotion or tenor behind them.

After Edward Cullen had left, we had held a short counsel. Through the images exchanged, I had seen and understood much.

An ordinary human girl, rather drab in my standards. She had an exquisite scent ... a scent that set my throat to flames, and sent the venom rushing to my mouth.

She was now dead.

That was what I had first understood.

But then, as Aro provided us more of the images that reined in his mind, I had understood more.

I had seen, then, the beauty in the girl. Edward Cullen ached for this beauty, the beauty of the girl that was so unique, that no one could imitate. The way her warm eyes flashed with intelligence and unselfishness. The delicate, scarlet flush of her pale cheeks. The noble, sweet curve of her full, soft lips.

I had cast aside these observations with distaste, unwillingly reminded of Didyme yet again. _Didyme was so beautiful_, I had though defensively. _This girl was drab ... ordinary and boring._

I had forced myself, through all my ridiculous regret, to feel contempt for Edward Cullen. Contempt that he was wasting his existence on so inconsequential a matter – there were so many humans, and all the more beautiful immortals to choose from.

I had realized that this girl was his _cantante_. Her blood, sweet even to me, sang to him in irresistible calls.

I told myself forcefully that I would have been happy ... if such a girl died. That I would have been glad to know that if I could not feast on my _cantante_, no other could. That if I could not taste the blood of my _cantante_, she would not exist to remind me of the temptation.

But Edward Cullen had wanted to _die._ He had wanted to be killed. He had wanted to be murdered by us, the Volturi. All because the non-existence of this girl was too much for him to bear ... the knowledge of it was too much for him to live with.

_Contempt_.

And then, a few minutes later.

_"He's got weird plans, master,"_ _Felix informed us. "I think he wants to force our hand." He held Aro's hand, obviously showing him the evidence to this information._

_Aro looked troubled._

_And ... so was I._

I remembered feeling a deep sense of _Why!?_, at the boy that was reminding me so cruelly of what I was not, and what I had felt I could never become.

"Oh, Marcus ..."

"Not over, Aro."

As Jane was sent down to smooth things over, I had sat at our throne, troubled.

But, even then, in my preoccupied state, I had noticed something – something growing gradually stronger as it neared my. My sense, that talent I had to observe the connection between two or more people, was throbbing with an excitement it had not felt in ... _a century._

I should have grown wary of it then. I should have paid that sense more attention, in that moment.

Perhaps I should have fled.

But I didn't, I had stayed where I was, curious about the growing eagerness in me, not knowing that my trouble was not over – the worst shock, the most painful, agonizing revelation had only been approaching, in direct proportion with the fierce longing I could sense in my nerves.

I gritted my teeth now, and my eyes were clenched shut. I reminded myself that Aro had to know about this, know about the recent turmoil in me – know how inefficient I was, how I could not serve him in this state. And I had to know if he could help me.

_Felix, Jane, and Demetri lead the party._

_They were followed by an immortal I had always wished to meet ... Alice Cullen._

_And behind them, their arms around each other, was Edward Cullen – his black eyes glowing with ... _joy_, even from this distance – and the pale, dark-haired girl I had seen only in memories._

_She was _alive!?

_I quickly looked to Aro, who nodded to me. Aro had realized my thoughts, and as he briefly linked fingers with Alec as he passed him, he understood._

_Apparently, the girl was well. And this was obviously the reason why the face of Edward Cullen – tight with anger and frustration – was still glowing, _happy,_ his eyes shining with a fierce joy._

He'd had that fierce joy. I had not.

But before I could even register this fact, this resentment, another force hit me – hit me with the strength of a wrecking ball, so that it needed all the power I had to keep myself on my feet, to keep my knees from giving out under me.

I stared at the two of them.

Edward Cullen, Bella Swan.

_The girl was not plain. She was lovely and intriguing. She was perfect. And her scent was intoxicating._

_But the force that hit me so strongly, so overhwelmingly, did not allow me to think of something as trivial as thirst. _

_As Edward and Alice Cullen tried to argue their way out of our Citadel safely and without any damage, I felt I could not take my eyes off the two of them. _

_Because ... because of the connection. _

Did it have to be that after a hundred years, when I felt that I had become numb to the agony of losing the strongest bond I had ever felt – to the girl that I had loved, _Didyme – _something else, something so extraordinary, should come to remind me of _this ..._ of all that I had lost? So cruelly, so callously?

When I was with my Didyme, the bond between us had thrilled me. With that other sense, I could see the thick red tie – thicker than blood, ironically – than bonded her to me, and me to her.

I had lost that bond. And I had felt then, that I had lost everything. Because _that bond_ had been everything. There could not have existed a stronger connection, in this world, than the one I had shared with Didyme.

_And here I was, a century later, listening to the arguments of these people who wished to go free, to live and love; here I was, seeing the impossible, unattainable, a hundred times stronger than fetters of iron – the beautiful, unbreakable bond that tied Edward to Bella, and she to him. _

_As Caius was cruel, and Aro genteel, I gasped, and cowered down on my throne at the onslaught of beautiful memories and images, passionate feelings and emotions – joyful things, with a large part of piercing pain with it._

Because then, I had realized – that for the past century, I had not _lived._ I had not healed. I had been _erased,_ in my quest to escape the pain.

And now, I realized, that I could feel myself again.

I opened my eyes, and found Aro watching me in a mixture of expressions – horror, awe, and regret, maybe.

"I wish ..." I whispered. "I wish they had been happy and together. I wish they had not come here ..."

"I understand," Aro said awkwardly, still under the images that I provided him.

But then again, I had realized ... that being erased was not being healed. It was not _right_, to forget Didyme in such a way. She deserved more from me ... I should have grieved for her, until the day would come, that I had grown resigned and could think of her and enjoy the happy memories, and hope that perhaps I would join her, some day.

_With this realization, as I watched Edward writhe with pain under Jane's torturous, sadistic gaze, and Bella's eyes widen in horror and agony, I was filled with a chilling, unwilling gratitude to the boy, and I was annoyed at Jane, for the first time._

_As Edward's arms once again circled the waist of the girl, as that bond – so overwhelmingly strong, unbreakable, so filled with passion – assaulted me again, I could not help being thankful, in the middle of my pain and regret, that they had come here, lifted me to the sun ... brought life to me again. _

_The guilt that I had not felt for so long; the guilt for forgetting Didyme and evading the pain of her loss for so long, now assaulted me, and I felt glad that I could feel it now. It was masochistic, perhaps, to feel so – but it was right. _

Afterwards, I was to know what had happened – that Edward had left Bella in a hope that he would keep her safe from the dangers of our myths and legends; that Bella had been hurt so much by his leaving, gone through so much pain, that she stayed alive only for the sake of her father's happiness. And that now, under a misunderstanding that Bella had killed herself, Edward had been racked with sadness, and had come here to be killed himself, in a hope that he could atone for the pain he had caused her ... or join her.

Just what I would have done ... should have done. I could not evade that fact.

_I trembled as I stood beside my brothers as they decided what punishment to give these people, my cold skin and muscles seeming to tingle with an excitement, an emotion, that I had not felt in so very long. _

_As Aro finally decided that he would let them go, in a condition that Bella would join our world of immortals one day, my heart swelled with joy._

_If I could not be happy, they, they with the connection perhaps even stronger than the one I'd had, should have joy. I got some satisfaction from that, in the midst of all my grief. _

Edward, Bella, and Alice had then been in a great hurry to leave, as Heidi would then bring us our meals. They had turned away from us to exit our cathedral. Edward's arms had been tightly wound around Bella's waist, and she did not let go of him as she trembled in fear.

_I trembled, too. Like a weakened, yet thrilled man, I slowly sunk back into my throne, not joining in the conversations of my brothers._

As they were about to take the step that would remove them from my sight, I could not help voicing, in my thoughts, what I had felt at that moment.

Overcome by a fierce grief, yet thankful that I could _feel_ again.

_Thank you,_ I thought fiercely, fervently, to Edward. _Thank you ... so much. Thank you._

Perhaps Edward would not know what I meant. But I had to express my gratitude.

_Thank you,_ I whispered again.

Edward had not acknowledged anything, and I had sunk back into my throne, and closed my eyes.

Slowly, I loosened my fingers around Aro's, and drew back my hand. I watched him, my face calm, my eyes fierce. Recalling these thoughts had been better for me than I would have imagined, and the next words I voiced were of a realization that came to me at this very moment, clearing my mind with crystal clarity.

"And yet," I whispered. "I wish they had come sooner." I half-smiled bitterly at the shocked face of Aro.

"I wish they had reminded me sooner ... to gather from the floor the tiny shards of the crystal, to notice them, and to grieve for their broken, sharp edges. To look at the crystal of ... my fate, envision it unbroken and beautiful, and regret that they had been destroyed – instead of ignoring them."

I ignored the speechless Aro for a moment, swimming in that regret again, and gathering joy from the next words I was to speak – the words that were still filled with grief, but a grief with some hope of being removed.

"I wish they had come sooner to remind me to cast away those tragic, beautiful, broken shards, and put together a new crystal for my life."

* * *

**A/N:**Yeah, that's it! I really enjoyed writing this – I've always been sort of touched by Marcus, even if, by canon, there is nothing to really be touched by. I mean, he can't ALWAYS have been "bored"!

So I hope you enjoyed this, people! And please, please review, if you're reading! I would LOVE to know what you think, as usual!

~starlit skyes~


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